


Command Performance

by Polly_Lynn



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Gossip, Humor, Teal'c Doesn't Understand Things and Daniel Is Bad At Explaining, Team, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 13:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11358132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polly_Lynn/pseuds/Polly_Lynn
Summary: “Work it out, Colonel. I’m not a babysitter.”





	Command Performance

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this was intended to be an insert for "The Enemy Within" (1 x 03), which is the first episode after the two-part pilot. Sam gets thrown into a wall twice, and they hadn't yet calibrated the Sam/Jack interaction, so Jack's response to her being in jeopardy is a little off.

“Work it out, Colonel. I’m not a babysitter.” Hammond gestured doorward. 

“No, sir. More like Dear Abby,” O’Neill muttered. 

“Excuse me?” The General’s dangerously mild and pleasant expression came closer to alarming Jack than the previous dressing down. 

“Permission to speak freely?” 

“Can I stop you?” 

“Not likely, sir,” Jack sped on. That near-smile was definitely unnerving. “I’m the babysitter. I didn’t get to pick my team . . .” 

“Colonel, you’re leading a civilian scientist and possibly an alien into combat . . . ”

“. . . and I appreciate that, General. Especially your going to bat for Teal’c.” 

“Captain Carter has more than earned her place on SG-1.” The smile broadened menacingly. 

“She pulls her weight.” Jack absently reached out to fondle one of the flags embedded in the General’s name plate. “But now this . . .  I’m not leading SG-1, I’m chaperoning.” 

“Jack.” The (much more comforting, really) scowl returned. “We’re not at the bottom of the inbox anymore. There are some very important eyes watching every move. That includes interpersonal relationships. Work it out.” 

“Yes, sir.” Jack donned a scowl of his own as he ventured into the unexpectedly hostile world of the SGC.  

 

* * *

Airmen and officers alike scattered as O’Neill made his way through the hallways. His glare repelled their informal greetings, forcing many a rapid accounting of what, exactly, they might have to feel guilty about. 

“Daniel.” He pushed through the half-open door without knocking. “Team meeting. Let’s go.” 

Daniel jumped, his pen arcing across the better part of a journal page. He cursed softly. 

“I was just finishing up my notes on Chulak. Go on without me I’ll meet you . . . where will I  . . .” He trailed off, not looking up. 

“No can do. Teal’c’s still under guard, so we’ll have to do it there. And Carter and I apparently need a chaperone.” 

“Excuse me?”  Daniel pushed his glasses on to his head. “Why would. . .?” 

“Let’s go. Not in the mood to discuss this twice.” His scowl blackened yet another shade. A pair of passing lab coats skittered to hug the opposite wall as he pivoted to face the hallway. 

“Jack.” Daniel pulled on his jacket. “What’s this about? You look like you’re about to hurt someone.”

“Me?” Jack tried on Hammond’s smile for size. “Oh, no, Daniel. I’m just gonna share my feelings.” 

* * *

 

“At ease, Captain.” O’Neill waved her into the chair she’d been hovering over, waiting for him to stop pacing. “You look like hell.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Sam sank into it gratefully, wondering whether the painkiller fog was preferable to the painful drumming at the base of her skull. 

Completing a final circuit, O’Neill kicked the fourth chair away from the table and threw himself into it opposite Carter. 

“Does that comment meet with everyone’s approval?” He shared an icy glare around the table. 

Carter frowned. Daniel blinked. Teal’c . . . sat. 

“Sir?” 

“My remarking on your injury, Captain. Is that ‘undue interest’? ‘Coddling’ maybe?” 

Daniel lay an alarmed hand on Jack’s elbow, trying to draw off a portion of his fury. 

He needn’t have bothered. Sam chewed it up and spit it right back out. “Sir, no sir.” The staccato was hell on her lingering headache, but she’d be damned if she’d show it. 

“Ok,” Daniel said mildly, holding a referee-like palm out to each of them.  “I take it there’s been some talk?” 

“Not from me.” Carter’s answer was Immediate. Definite. Sincere.

“Good to hear, Carter.” O’Neill’s nod was curt, but the knot in his gut was loosening. 

“Is there not talk now?” Teal’c looked from one face to the other. “Are we not talking?”  

The Jaffa’s confusion broke the last of the tension in the room. 

“Talk, in this case means ‘gossip,’ Teal’c.” Daniel said, ever eager to inform. 

“Gossip?” 

“Gossip, Teal’c, getting the scuttlebutt, talkin’ trash, hearin’ it through the grapevine.” O’Neill leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head.

“Jack, do you really think he’s ready for slang?” Daniel chided. 

“It means that people have suggested that the Colonel . . .” Sam felt her cheeks flush and cursed internally, “. . . Was too concerned about my injury.” 

“Is it not the duty of a leader to keep his warriors in a state of physical readiness?”

“It is, Teal’c, but, because Captain Carter is a woman . . .” It was Daniel’s turn to blush. 

“I have observed but few female warriors in your ranks. I do not understand why.” Teal’c’s frown deepened. He found this “talk” unenlightening. 

“You and me both.” Sam gave a wry grin.

“We just think . . .” Jack corrected, feeling, rather than actually seeing, Carter’s glare. “We thought . . .” No help there. “In the past, some people, who are not me”—he made a defensive gesture—“thought that . . .”

“That working relationships might be complicated by romantic or . . . or . . . or . . sexual entanglements.” Daniel came to his rescue, stuttering.  

“And O’Neill is sexually involved with Captain Carter.” 

“No!” Their voices were in perfect synchrony.

“No, of course not.” Daniel wrinkled his nose slightly. “But, well, Caesar’s wife must be above reproach.” 

“Captain Carter is O’Neill’s wife?” Teal’c considered his teammates and thought them well-matched. 

“Nice, Daniel. He’s not ready for slang, but he’s ready for Shakespeare?” Jack seized the opportunity to steer the conversation in a new direction. 

"It's not Shakespeare." Daniel adjusted his glasses, headed straight for lecture mode. "It's Caesar actually. At least according to Plutarch . . ."  

“The point is, Teal’c,” Sam enthusiastically leant her oar to the effort. “The Colonel would have responded exactly the same way if it had been you or Daniel who was hurt. Now we just have to show the rest of the base of that.”

“Yeah.” 

All four lapsed into discontented silence. 

“Teal’c could throw Daniel into a wall! That would be very concerning.” O’Neill looked around excitedly for support. “That’d show ‘em.”

“Or he could throw _you_ into a wall and then they’d see that none of us cares at all.” Daniel sniffed. 

“I would happily throw any of you into a wall.” Teal’c bowed solemnly. “For the good of SG-1.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, Cora Clavia, this is IT. No more terrible, ancient SG-1 fic.


End file.
